Juror Ch. 03

The experiences were totally different, of course, as one woman lay on her side, resting her wonderfully fecund belly on the bed while I slowly and gently screwed her ass from behind. Ana put me on my back and rode me hard and fast like the athlete she is. While I saw Angela's eyes only when she turned her head to me, Ana kept hers locked on mine as she aggressively fucked me. Angela enjoyed my preparation, opening her up with my fingers, whereas Ana just lubed me up and sat down, forcing me in.

Though totally different, there were marked similarities. They both had wept shortly before, purging themselves of their anguish. Each woman's eyes revealed the significance of giving me what they'd never given before. Their 22 year-old virgin assholes were tight, really tight. Both women came, massively and ecstatically, to my clitoral caresses. When they did, the powerful contractions of their rectums just sucked the cum out of me. And both their faces gleamed with triumphant womanly power as they watched me wince, writhe and gasp uncontrollably as they continued sliding on my cock, squeezing it, milking it over and over, draining me completely.

Being on the lam, running for our lives, quickly became second nature. We found another fleabag in another out-of-the-way small town every night, stayed inside all day, and used each other to assuage our boredom. We hid out for a week, waiting for the heat to cool enough for me to return to Chicago and finish the job.

However, when H reported that the search for us had only intensified, that Galliano had doubled the price on our heads, and our pictures were being circulated nationwide, to all the families, we decided that I had to immediately find a way to end things.

The small sound pulled me out of my reminiscence and I unholstered the Sig P320, double checked that a round was chambered and that the red dot sight was adjusted to the dim, night-time level. I heard footsteps outside the door, but wasn't concerned. It would be standard procedure for Galliano's soldiers to search the place upon their return. Plus, the door to the elevator was disguised to look like a bookcase, and no one even knew about it. Angela had told me that, being paranoid, when her father had shown her the secret passage, he made her vow never to tell anyone. Not even Manny. Except for Teo and me, no one other than Galliano, his wife and daughter even knew it existed.

I checked the time - 10:40 - and went back into waiting mode. There were no other noises outside my door and my mind again drifted to other things. Like the job. I had been wracking my brain for days, trying to figure out how it could end well. Which meant Galliano dead but his wife alive. H would have scoffed, ridiculing me if I expressed my concern, but I just could not stomach the idea of doing the job pro forma and killing everyone, including Angela's mother. Knowing what she thought of her father, having him gone in addition to her recently departed husband, could actually be a blessing for Angela. But to lose her mother, too?

My phone vibrating brought me to the present once again. 11:30. Time to move. I double checked the Sig, eased the door open and slipped out. No one was stirring, but I could hear faint snoring from the guard posted upstairs down the hall from Galliano's bedroom. He was sleeping soundly, unconcerned. Anyone coming for Galliano would have to get by the guard at the public elevator first. The commotion would wake him up.

I'd checked out the place when I first arrived - making sure no one was left at home, holding down the fort - and had been thorough. Though I'd searched everywhere, my main focus was on the area around the kitchen. Angela had said that her father often awoke late at night, and that a snack was his solution to insomnia. Plan A, the best case scenario, was that Tony would wake up, be hungry, and come to the kitchen. I'd hide his body in the pantry and split.

However, just in case, I'd also memorized where to step on each of the stairs to the top floor. Some steps always creak, and I'd rehearsed the choreography of stepping just here, then there so I could ascend silently. If Plan B had to activate and I followed protocol. And killed everyone.

Like many exclusive residences, there were dim nightlights built into the baseboards throughout the condo, and I could see easily as I slipped into the alcove between the kitchen and the pantry and waited. I figured I had until 4:30 AM. If Galliano hadn't needed a snack by then, I'd have no choice but to go to Plan B. Do the elevator guard first, then float silently up the stairs, off the other guard as I charged, then into the bedroom for the sleeping couple. That would suck, big time, but so would letting Teo be killed by some random hood.

I was into my 4th iteration of my sequence when I heard it. I'd been waiting 15 minutes, then moving to stay supple, doing knee bends, rolling my shoulders, stretching, loosening up the hands, then waiting 15 minutes more. The noise was more of a rustle than anything, but the hairs stood up on the back of my neck.

Someone was coming.

The Sig was in its holster - Plan A was to break Galliano's neck silently so I wouldn't cause a commotion that would rouse the guards - and I coiled, ready to strike once the shadowy figure appeared. I mentally rehearsed the technique I'd practiced thousands of times as I listened intently to the approach.

Swish, swish, swish, swish. NOW!

I'm not sure why I froze, didn't break Tony's neck instantly as he passed, but something just wasn't right. When the specter reached the fridge and the light came on when the door opened, it was obvious. Sofia Galliano, not Tony, stood before the open door.

Damn.

I couldn't help but admire the voluptuous curves of her body as the light from the refrigerator silhouetted her through the diaphanous robe. Which was obviously all she was wearing. I understood where Angela got her looks. Sofia had to be maybe mid-40s, but, in a word, wow!

My brain quit reeling from the surprise just enough to concoct Plan A.2. I slipped back into my hiding place and waited. Maybe after she was done - she seemed to be making a sandwich - she'd go upstairs and Tony would favor me with a visit.

Sure; why not? Good plan.

I liked Plan A.3 even better when it flashed into my mind. I could render the woman unconscious with a choke hold - my Gracie jiu-jitsu training was flexible; the chokes don't have to be fatal - then take care of the guards and Tony. Angela's mother wouldn't have to die. It was perfect and I was just edging out, towards her turned back, when it froze me.

"So tonight's the night, John?" Sofia's whisper was low, soft, but edgy.

I'm highly skilled, and was certain that I hadn't made a sound. Maybe Mrs. Galliano was psychic. As I coiled again, ready to strike, her voice stopped me once more.

"You don't have to kill me. I'm harmless."

I knew I could either kill or immobilize her instantly, anytime I wanted, and, as she wasn't screaming bloody murder, I chose not to.

Sofia turned towards me. And took a step forward.

"My daughter is very intelligent, don't you think, John? She liked you very much, I might add. During my bout beating cancer two years ago we became very close. She tells me everything. Every single thing. After a few days, the way that you just happened to be at Dee's and fulfilled every single aspect of her fantasy just seemed a bit too coincidental. She told me all about it, and I've been expecting you. When you searched the house earlier, you didn't see the hair I left across our bedroom door. I noticed it was gone."

She seemed oddly calm, and to want to talk. Though uncertain where it might lead, I figured I'd find out, and matched her soft whisper, "Angela is wonderful. I hated to deceive her, but your husband has put out a contract on me and..."

"I know all about that, John. Or whoever you are. You need to know this: Angela is not mourning Manny, except in public. She is very relieved to be rid of him, but she and I both know that after she's had the baby, and a respectable grieving period has elapsed, my husband will again force her to marry one of his goons. Like before, I won't be able to stop him. Angela finds that an abominable prospect, and I find it unacceptable."

I began to see where this was headed even before she completed her thought. "Wait here. After I leave, I'll send Tony down for the sandwich, and then I will go to sleep, until at least 8 AM. The guards will be up earlier, but they never disturb us. Do you understand?"

I did.

Swish, swish, swish.

Or I thought I did.

My certainty wavered as Sofia walked closer and whispered, lower, sensually, "Angela told me other things, too. Enticing things. She said that your cock is most impressive, and that when really hard it cants back, towards your abdomen, and just slightly to the left. She also told me that you are highly skilled with your tongue. Is that so?"

My mind was reeling again - could this actually be happening? - and when I couldn't do more than stare, dumbfounded, Sophia sidled even closer. She brushed against me, prodded my chest with her breast, looked up at me, licked her lips, and continued. "Angela was quite snotty when she told me all this, like, 'I got to fuck him really well, mother, and you can't. Nah, hah nah nah nah.' Does that seem nice to you, John? Fair? Respectful to her mother?"

"Uhh..."

"Do you like my nighty?" She paused as if I should answer, but other than recall my reaction as she spent time turning this way and that, evidently knowing I was watching as she posed before the open refrigerator, I couldn't think of a thing to say. She went on, "It unties in the front, just here." She pulled the string and it fell open. She shrugged it off.

"Oh, but maybe I'm too old for you, John. I do try to stay in shape, but... Mmpphh!"

I grabbed Sofia and kissed her. With conviction. I'd had the usual flood of testosterone, cortisol, and adrenaline into my system as I'd prepared to kill Tony. With no action to dispel their potency, the hormones were still raging inside me, and seemed to have rendezvoused in my cock. My hard, throbbing cock. My hands had minds of their own, and evidently wanted to explore every single inch of Sofia. They did. One finally stopped, enticed by her very wet pussy, while the other assailed a wonderfully full and firm breast.

As our tongues continued getting acquainted, Sofia's hands were also active, and she hummed her approval into my mouth after they had pulled my sweat pants down, and met on my penis. Though she moved a little awkwardly - having my hand wedged between her thighs and my fingers up her quim made her gait a bit irregular - she used my cock as a handle and pulled me into the pantry. One hand left me and closed the door, then sunk its long, stylish fingernails into my ass.

I'm a very considerate, patient lover. Usually. But the hunger in Sofia's kiss; the undulating writhing of her naked, slinky body against mine; the fervent, eager sounds emanating from her throat; the way her fingers so irresistibly played on my penis; all swirled together and became one overwhelmingly tantalizing essence. And when her nails raked my ass, something inside me snapped. The tether restraining my most primitive part, somewhere deep down in my brain stem, ruptured, and that part reared up and took charge.

Sofia's first gasp came when I swept her up and planted her ass on the edge of the countertop. Her second was prompted by my cock ramming into her to the hilt, in one fell swoop. I just held it still, as deep inside her as I could get, savoring her exquisite slick, clingy heat. Her sultry voice turned raspy, lascivious, seething with desire. "Fuck me, John. Fuck me hard."

Her fingernails again unleashed my feral frenzy, and I did exactly what she wanted. What I wanted. Her sudden movement was puzzling until I realized why she'd leaned to the side when she began biting down hard on the dish towel she'd grabbed. It did diminish the volume of her deep-throated cries, just as her hand, covering my mouth, stifled my animalistic growls. She met my every thrust and we humped and heaved against each other as the conflagration consumed us.

Her hands flew from my ass as the orgasm crashed over Sofia. Her shaking arms clenched to her sides, her fists balled tight, and I wrapped my arms around her to keep her from flailing off the counter. Her vagina was insanely tight and hot as it clutched my tool, and, inspired by its rhythmic clenches, I reamed her harder, faster, needing to expel the seething mass inside, burning me up.

Her second climax came right on the heels of the first, just as my hips, driven by primal hunger, found another gear. Sofia had enough presence of mind to again cover my mouth, stifling my growls and gasps, grunts and groans, as I lurched into her spasmodically and began to come. My whole consciousness devolved to just the trail of the molten lava, churning out from deep in my balls, driving up my shaft and erupting. My system clenched and spewed over and over, giving my all to Sofia.

Her hands on my face pulled me to her, pulled me back from the wild, and she transformed into the most tender, gentle lover imaginable. Little kisses graced my forehead, eyes and cheeks, finally my lips. Her hands pulled my t-shirt off over my head, then feathered my neck and back and shoulders. Her calves gently stroked my legs, and her soft, silky voice soothed me back to consciousness, "Mmm. Mmm. That was delicious. So amazing. Angela told me you were tremendous, but... Just mmmm."

Sofia's "Mmms" continued, but became more and more impassioned once I'd pulled out of her, quickly kicked off my shoes and pants, knelt between her legs and began licking up the flood. My salty semen scratched my throat, but I concentrated on her, loving each of her soft, pliable folds, sucking in her labia, laving them with my tongue, chewing them delicately with my lips. Her trembling hips jerked, thrusting her pussy to me, when my balled tongue first penetrated her still-gaping hole, and her sounds became fervid as I swirled it in and out, round and round.

Her fingers, embedded in my hair, urged my tongue higher, to her clitoris, and, unlike what I'd done to her daughter, I didn't tease her. As I flicked her hard post, I smiled inwardly when the realization hit me that, just as I'd seduced Angela, Sofia had just seduced me. I assumed that she had again chomped down on the towel when she came, as her sweet moans had a muffled quality.

NO!

Realizing that her moans were not the only thing I was hearing, I tore myself away from Sofia and leapt at the figure in the open doorway. Tony Galliano's mouth was agape, his visage blank as he stared at the incomprehensible scene before him. His brief hesitation was just enough, and I instantly had my body tight to his and swept his legs, driving him down. Hitting the floor took his breath before he could call out to the guards, and my immediate choke cut off both his air and the blood supply to his brain.

Her movement - Sofia hopped off the counter and stepped forward to get a better view - drew my eye as Tony thrashed and jerked, fists futilely flailing, fighting for breath, for life, during the 6 seconds it took him to lose consciousness. Seeing Sofia watching me, I realized that this was an impossible snafu, but also that I had no choice.

Stur! Headfirst through the wall! I adjusted my hold on Tony's neck and snapped it like a twig.

At some point I'm sure I'll need a shrink - given my profession there have to be some thorny issues inhabiting my psyche - and in one of our sessions I'll have to bring up what happened next.

The brief scuffle had not been without noise, and I plastered myself against the wall next to the open door. Listening. After the slowest 10 seconds ever, I decided that the downstairs bodyguard either had not heard anything, or had just decided it was Tony getting a snack.

As I eased the door shut, my mind raced, flooded by the jumble of thoughts. How would Sofia react? What could I possibly say to her? It was one thing to entertain the notion of sending your husband downstairs to his death, but quite another to actually see it happen. What if she was so appalled by the horror of watching Tony's death throes that she wouldn't follow through with her original plan? Would I have to kill her, too?

Sophia leaping to her knees and devouring my still heavy, but drooping dick dispelled my concerns. Tony's surprise visit had prompted another huge dump of hormones into my system, and the way she nursed on me so avidly just sucked them into my penis. She proved as skillful as she was determined, and my swelling prick obediently burgeoned and twitched, getting ever bigger, ever harder, as she licked and sucked me to her desired level of rigidity.

When Sofia judged me hard enough, her lips popped off, her hand grabbed my penis and tugged me down on top of her as she flopped onto her back, splayed her legs wide and shoved my cock inside her.

"Fuck me, just fuck me!" Her whispered hiss was raw, coarse, wild and fierce, and I suddenly understood. Witnessing the mortal combat between her husband and her lover, seeing one suitor dominate and kill the other, had awakened something primal, feral, an animal deep inside her. And that savage female, knowing she was the spoils, the prize to be claimed by the victorious male, needed to mate.

We did.

Sofia's ass thumped against the floor each time I drove into her, over and over, always faster, always harder. When her whimpers became cries I covered her mouth with my hand. She bit it even harder during her second orgasm, but then mellowed, ascending to a luxuriant level of continual bliss as I kept pounding her.

When she slowly, deliberately, looked to the side, at Tony's lifeless corpse a mere foot from us, then turned to me, smiled, leaned up, kissed me, and sucked my tongue as deeply into her mouth as my cock was in her pussy, I totally lost it. The molten gism simply boiled over, consumed me, burned me to nothing as it barreled up my pole and exploded.

When I came to, Sofia's fingers were gently caressing my cheeks, my neck, my head, soothing me, and her light kisses felt like splashes of spring rain on my hot, flushed face.

After I slid to the side, I hugged Sofia to me, too hard, and she pressed herself against me as our panting abated and our mingled sweat cooled our bodies. Bonded in the most primitive of intimacies, we said nothing for timeless moments as the magnitude of the primordial power that had consumed us gradually waned.

Sofia then became almost girlish, seeming as young as her daughter. She playfully, teasingly, toyed with my penis as she whispered, "Angela told me that she was very sorry she did not invite you to, er, come," she giggled, "visit again, John. Now I understand why. Your cock is amazing, and does arc back towards your belly when hard. It was glorious to feel that arch penetrating to my very core. I will SO enjoy telling my snotty daughter that she's not the only one to have come hard, uncontrollably, impaled on your wonderful penis."

Then Sofia sighed. Her tone became serious, older, wiser. Resigned. "But you have to go. I'll leave, too, and get the best night's sleep I've had in ages. Adieu, John."

Our lengthy farewell embrace was laden with ineffable meaning. When it could linger no longer, she broke off our warm kiss, murmured, "Mmmm," lightly pecked my cheek, and left. As her swishes diminished, I dressed and took care of business.

**

God! What a woman! I clung tightly to Theodora's waist and followed her lead as she leaned into the turn. She gunned it, and I felt the pavement just kiss my knee as she swung the Kawasaki Ninja onto The Embarcadero, cutting just in front of the looming delivery truck. She gunned it again when she took the left onto Powell, and, as she zig zagged madly south, dodging cars and people, I took a quick peak back. It seemed we were clear, but...